by Nella Tyler
Briggs didn't answer. Brecken didn't know what to think. His heart pounded crazily in his chest. This couldn't be happening. This was his old buddy. "Briggs, what are you doing?"
"Don't try anything that you'll regret," Briggs replied calmly, as if he was talking about the weather. "I don't want to have to hurt you. You know that, Brecken, don't you?"
He was stunned. "I don't know anything right now," he replied honestly. "Is this a joke? Because if it is, it's not-"
"Shut up, Brecken," Briggs snapped. "Just head to that car and keep your mouth shut. I'll explain everything in a minute."
He didn't want to get into any strange car, much less at gunpoint, but at the moment he didn't have a choice. By the time they reached the car, his mind was spinning with questions, but he forced himself to rely on his training, his experiences, and his background as a SEAL to bide his time.
Briggs opened the back door and half-shoved him toward it.
"Get inside."
There was not much Brecken could do. He climbed in and then moved over as Briggs slid in next to him. Two men sat in the front. The front seat passenger turned to glance over his shoulder. His eyes widened in surprise. Captain Williams, the former leader of Brecken's SEAL unit.
"Close your eyes, Brecken," he said.
"What the hell is going on-”?
That's all Brecken managed to get out before something was pressed against his neck. It wasn't a gun. He had just turned to stare at Briggs in surprise when he felt it; an electric shock sending fifty thousand volts of electricity surging through his body, impacting every muscle, every nerve. Every cell in his body spasmed or so it seemed. His jaw clenched shut. His brain suddenly turned to mush. Every muscle in his body stiffened and jerked spasmodically.
He couldn't speak. Couldn't move. Couldn't escape. Shit. And then, the blackness closed in around him.
*
As Brecken slowly regained consciousness, he felt like he had been run over by a Mack truck. Twice. Every muscle in his body tingled with the aftereffects of being tasered. What the hell? His mind was foggy. He couldn't think straight. Had Briggs really tasered him? Had he really seen his own team leader, Captain Williams, in the passenger seat of the car he had been ushered into at gunpoint? What the hell was going on?
He heard voices – male voices speaking softly. He tried to move but couldn't. Part of the aftereffects of the taser? He'd never been tasered before, so he didn't know. He opened his eyes, found himself staring down at his knees. He slowly lifted his head, clearing his foggy vision, trying to make sense of what he saw. It was impossible. His brain was all jumbled up.
"Welcome back, Brecken," a voice said.
As his vision slowly cleared, Brecken realized that he was tied to a chair, his hands behind the chair back. He tried to move his legs and realized that his feet were also tied to the chair legs. He wasn't really surprised. As a Navy SEAL, he had been trained and was quite adept at a number of martial arts skills. So was Briggs. So was his former unit leader.
He looked up, saw Briggs crouched down a few feet in front of him, watching him carefully. Brecken stared at him, not saying anything as he quickly cast his gaze about. Where the hell was he? It was big, filled with shadows. A warehouse? If it was, he had no idea where. In the distance he heard the sounds of a buoy clanging. The harbor. Then he heard a foghorn, even further out. He knew he was somewhere around the harbor, but that was about it.
"Bet you're wondering what this is all about, aren’t you?"
Again, he looked at Briggs. He tried to speak, but couldn't quite form the words. He didn't have any saliva. He tried to swallow.
"Hurts like hell, doesn't it?" Briggs asked.
He appeared amused. Brecken glared at him. Ever so slowly, he felt the tingling subside, but his brain was still jumbled. Confused. A chair scraped against the floor past Briggs’ shoulder and he looked up to see Captain Williams approaching.
"Don't get all excited, Brecken," Williams said. “We won't hurt you unless you make us."
If Brecken could have, he would've laughed. He tried to speak again. "The hell…you want?"
Briggs stood. Together, Williams and his old buddy stared down at him. Williams gestured with his hand. A light appeared behind them. He saw several other figures, but for several seconds couldn't make sense of what he saw. Then, one by one, his old SEAL team buddies stepped forward. Rogers. Anderson. Rodriguez. What the hell?
"We thought we'd have a little reunion," Williams said.
It took a moment, but Brecken finally managed to get out of whole sentence. "What the hell is going on, Captain… or wait, you're probably retired by now, aren't you?" It took everything he had to sound like he was calm, not concerned a bit by the sudden change in circumstances.
"You bet I am," he said. "Making more money, too." He paused and moved behind Brecken. "But then, you wouldn't know about that, would you, Shaw? You've got more money than Methuselah, so you've never even had to think about it, have you? The money didn't make a bit of difference to you that we got paid like shit for risking our lives the way we did in Afghanistan."
He shook his head. What had happened? Why was his captain here with his old team? What were they doing? This wasn't a reunion. This was…
"We thought you might like to see an old friend of yours," Briggs commented.
He stepped out of Brecken's line of sight and gestured toward the corner. Brecken turned his head and saw a figure sitting in the half shadows. His heart skipped a beat. He blinked. Shook his head, trying to clear the fog from his brain. Looked again.
Shit. It was the Bolivian colonel, staring at him, a look of boredom on his face. Brecken looked up at Briggs and then at his former captain, waiting for an explanation.
"The way I see it, Shaw…" Williams began. "You have two choices."
"Only two?" Brecken asked, trying to play it cool. His mind raced a hundred miles an hour, along with his heartbeat. What was going on? How had the Bolivian colonel found his old unit? Or was it the other way around? What did they want?
Williams laughed. "You see, the rest of the team, the old team, has joined a private sort-of military unit. The only member that's missing is you. We know what you've been up to."
"And what exactly is that?" he asked, looking up at his former commander. What the hell happened to him? He glanced at the others. To them? How could they betray—
Again, Williams laughed. "You're wondering how we could betray our oath? Isn't that like calling the kettle black? What about you, Shaw? How do you explain your own actions, selling secrets and intelligence?"
Brecken wasn't quite sure how much his old Captain knew, but the fact that the Bolivian colonel was sitting in the corner didn't bode well for him.
Williams continued, "You can come to work for us, our very own private military unit."
"So, let me get this straight," Brecken said, trying to straighten in the chair. His muscles still protested every move. "You're now working against the very people that we were trying to help in Afghanistan? Is that it?"
"And, what about you, Shaw?" Williams countered. "You trade in intelligence that-"
"I don't trade in any intelligence or secrets that puts our military in danger," Brecken said, growing angry. "And if I have secrets that can topple a regime, make some money, or hell, even set the enemy at each other's throats, yes, I'm going to profit from it. But I have never, at least not knowingly, divulged any intelligence or data that puts our guys at risk." He gazed at Captain Williams, then at Briggs, frowning. He looked at the other members of his former unit, shaking his head in dismay. "What the hell happened to you guys? Why are you doing this?"
Again, Williams laughed. "You think we care about patriotism or loyalty at this point? We got screwed, Shaw. After putting our lives on the line, risking everything, losing our families to divorce, whatever, you know we got for it? Nothing!"
"You had your honor!" Brecken snapped. "Now, you turn on your own?"
"And you haven'
t committed any sins?" Briggs demanded. "Are you going to tell me, Brecken, that you’re so clean? That you have lived your life honorably since you left the team?"
"What do you want from me?"
"I already told you," Williams said. "You can join our private military unit and work with us, for whoever pays the highest, no questions asked…"
"I'm not a mercenary," Brecken said. There was no way in hell he was going to join his old team. They weren't his old team anymore. They weren't the buddies that he had endured so much with. They were strangers. Every single one of them.
How had Williams managed to convince all of them to go along with this? And even more importantly, why hadn't he known about it? He knew why. Because he had been too busy fucking Alyson, starting his own company, embroiled in his own acts of deception and subterfuge, finding and revealing secrets, buying and selling information. No matter what the reason, his hands were just as dirty as theirs. He shook his head.
"Really?" Williams asked. "Fine. Then you can give us access to your data servers, all of the dirty information you have on your targets, and then we'll make it easy for you. We might have a few other chores for you, but in the end, you'll die."
Brecken couldn't believe this. He turned to the Bolivian. The man smirked. They were working for the Bolivian colonel? He was trying to bring the colonel down and his old unit was backing the bastard? He glanced again at him, now making a show of cleaning his fingernails. Prick.
"Can I think about it?" Brecken asked sarcastically. His calm tone belied his fury. He couldn't believe that his formerly honorable and very brave team members had turned into nothing more than mercenary thugs. Even while that thought raced through his brain, he wondered how the hell he would get out of this. He was in trouble and he knew it. His only option, at least as far as he saw, was to play along with them. But it had to be convincing – very convincing.
He stared at each of them, as if contemplating his options. He relaxed his expression, hid his anger and disgust, and acted like he was actually contemplating it.
"The money is good," Briggs shrugged. "There was no way in hell I was gonna get by on my lousy Navy pay. Not even a pension if I survived that long. And, after everything we did. After everything we sacrificed. Can you believe that? The stupid government is cutting benefits left and right. But you never cared about money, did you, Brecken? You never had to worry about money."
He gestured toward the others.
"You know what these guys have been doing the past few years? Scrambling to get by. Every single one of them. And you. All you had to do was start your own company with old family money. Computer programming my ass. You've got it made, Shaw, and you always have. But the rest of us? We don't have it so good. So don't act so high and mighty. Your hands are dirty and you know it. Don't try to deny it."
Brecken didn't. In a way, come to think of it, he had behaved somewhat like a mercenary himself. Selling his information to the highest bidder. Holding information and threats over people's heads. Did it really matter who he worked for? What made him so different from Briggs, Captain Williams, or the others? For the first time in years, he was disgusted with himself. There had to be better ways to seek justice than the way he had been going about it, or the way that his former unit was going about it.
He realized he couldn't contemplate such thoughts right now. Right now, he had to figure out a way to get out of this. Unless he did, there was no point in analyzing where he was in life or what he was doing with it. He glanced up at Williams.
"What's in it for me?"
Williams laughed. "Fifteen percent cut on drugs smuggled from Bolivia to the States. Ten percent on arms deals brokered with your contacts."
Brecken pursed his lips and considered. Fifteen seconds. Thirty. Make it convincing. "You're only in on drugs and weapons?"
Williams stared at him, assessing. "We've dabbled in a few other endeavors," he said with a shrug.
"Like what?" Brecken asked. Williams hesitated. "If you want me to join you, I'll need to know what you're into." He shrugged. "Besides, I have contacts in a lot of places. Remember that a little bit of information goes a long way."
"A little bit in international prostitution-"
Brecken turned to Briggs. "Human trafficking? Is that what you're saying? Human trafficking? Since we’re talking about whose hands are dirtiest, let's at least be honest with each other, shall we?"
Briggs scowled, but after glancing at Williams, offered another shrug. "Okay, Brecken. Sure, human trafficking. With Russia, the Middle East, South America…"
"Children?" Brecken asked. His blood was boiling.
Briggs made a face. "Not typically, but it’s happened on occasion."
He felt sick to his stomach. What had happened to his old unit? They were hurting for money so bad that they would stoop to sex trafficking children? He schooled his expression, maintaining a sense of calm that he didn't feel inside. He remained silent for several moments, eyeing Williams, Briggs, the Bolivian colonel, and then every member of his former unit.
"Well?" William asked after waiting impatiently for all of a minute.
Brecken raised an eyebrow. "I want twenty percent on the drugs and ten percent on the arms, but I don't want a cut on the human trafficking."
Williams stared down at him for several moments, and then glanced at Briggs, who shrugged. He turned to look at the others, but no one said anything. Did they believe him? Why shouldn't they? As they had said, he wasn't exactly clean himself. At this moment, more than ever before, he felt a surge of shame. They were right. He was no better than them. But shit…human trafficking? He had his standards.
Suddenly, Williams laughed and clapped him on the shoulder.
"Welcome back, Shaw," he said. The others, barring the Bolivian colonel, laughed and welcomed him back to the old team.
Chapter 9
Heather was growing increasingly annoyed and frustrated. These two guys wouldn't leave, no matter how much she tried to convince them that she would be perfectly fine in her own apartment. She even promised them that she wouldn't leave her apartment until Brecken – or someone – told her she could, but they just stared at her. She had asked them repeatedly where Brecken was, but they didn't reply. They had even asked the question of her, so did they know or were they just testing her?
She didn't want them in her apartment. She didn't even want to be here, anymore. She wanted to be back at the house with her parents. She wanted to call them, too, but every time she pulled the phone from her pocket, one of the men gave her a look. Suddenly impatient and frustrated with the entire situation and annoyed because she didn't know what the hell was going on, she stood and began to walk away from the couch. She didn't head toward her bedroom or the bathroom, though, but toward the front door.
Immediately, one of the men standing by the window hurried to stop her.
"Where are you going?"
"Outside! Away from you!" She reached for the front door.
He stopped her, placing a hand over hers as she touched the doorknob. She gasped, took a step back, and jerked her hand away from his. "Are you part of Brecken’s security team?" she demanded.
"Yes."
"Are you acting as my bodyguards or as kidnappers?"
"We're not kidnappers, Heather," he said.
He glanced at his partner, who still stood by the window.
"We were assigned to keep an eye on you, and we will continue to do so until we get our orders to stand down."
Orders? Assigned? Stand down? She frowned up at him. "I don't know what's going on, but I'm telling you right now that I don't like it and I have no intention of staying in this apartment with you two goons for the entire night. You've been here all day! You call Brecken right now and tell him that I want you to leave!"
"You have a phone. You call him."
"I've tried!" she snapped. "He's not answering." And that infuriated her. Why, just last night they had been entangled with each other, having had sex on the
floor of Mabel's Bed and Breakfast! What the hell was going on? She didn't know, and at this moment, she didn't care. All she knew was that she didn't want to be stuck in the apartment anymore with these two somber and rather intimidating men.
She continued to glare up at the bodyguard or whatever the hell he was, but he stared calmly down at her. He was at least six inches taller and at least one hundred pounds heavier than she was, so knew that there was no way she was going to be able to physically move past him. She stamped her foot in frustration. She was fit to be tied, and spitting mad. She wished at this moment that she had never agreed to work for Brecken, had never been captivated by his good looks, his sexy charm, and his charisma.
She glanced between the guard standing in front of her and the one by the window. They both watched her carefully, as though afraid that she would explode at any minute and do something unexpected. And, that was just a problem, wasn't it? She couldn't do anything. She certainly couldn't fight them. She was no match for either of them. Her calls to Brecken were not going through, so what was she supposed to do? How long did they have to stay here? She didn't want them here anymore!
"Can't you just leave?" she practically begged, cringing at the sound of her whining voice. "Please? Can't you just go away and leave me alone?"
The man standing in front of the door just stared down at her and didn't answer. He didn't have to. She turned and walked back to the couch, picking up her phone from the coffee table.
"You said you weren't able to get through to Brecken," the man standing by the window said.
"I'm not calling Brecken," she snapped at him.
"Who are you calling?" the other guard asked, moving away from the front door.
She punched in three numbers. "I'm calling the police." She had just lifted the phone to her ear when the guard by the window reached her side. He snatched the phone from her fingers and pressed the end button. She shot to her feet. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" She reached for her phone but he held it away from her.